Steven's words echoed in Azel's mind.
"If you're ever cornered against an opponent you cannot beat, then there are only two styles worth using. They won't win you the fight — but they'll force your enemy onto the defensive. And sometimes, that's enough."
Now those words were all he could hold on to.
The battlefield had become a storm.
His own whirlpool spun violently, winds colliding with snow and shards of ice, forming a maelstrom that howled like a beast let loose from the abyss.
At its center, the figure beating furiously against the currents, was the Goddess of Ice herself.
Kyone.
The divine being floated in the air, her silver hair whipping violently,
Every breath she took was stolen from the chaos around her.
She knew firsthand how troublesome this whirlpool was.
And it was Azel's creation.
Her eyes narrowed.
Without warning, she hurled one of her bone weapons.
